Tornados
Tornados,
You rip thourgh house's and homes.
Destroy house as you spin along.
Kill so many of those inesent people, when they think they will be fine then you rip and suck up there shrine.
Leave house's and mess all over the place.
As on April the third 1956 over 400 tornado suck up the homes and left famlies and freinds with broken hearts and left hospitals filled with sad people with bad enjuries that left the, poor nurse's and Doctors work till daylight with out any power fo over 24 hours that ment that some people would die overs in criddicle conditions so remeber April the first is a very, sad day
poem by Catherine smith
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She's Not My Girlfriend
Her heart is in my hand
It shivers like a toad
She tries to understand the
Tiny lump that's down inside her throat
It goes
Suck suck
Suck suck
Suck suck
Her head is in my lap
It twists and coughs and sings
Her hair is in my grasp
It hangs and swings like swollen strings
It goes
Suck suck
Suck suck
Suck suck
Her face is inside out
An open book report
I read what she's about
And she's filled with words that hurt
It goes
Suck suck
Suck suck
Suck suck
Sometimes I want her in
Sometimes I want her out
My perception of sin
Is filled with pain and fear and doubt
She she she she, she isn't my girlfriend
No no, I'm not who you think I am
She she, she isn't my girlfriend
No no, I'm not who you think I am
Her clothes are on the ground
A crumpled rainbow mass
She's scattered all around
And she's scattered now like broken glass
It goes
Suck suck
Suck suck
Suck suck
Sometimes I want her in
Sometimes I want her out
My perception of sin
Is filled with pain and fear and doubt
She she she she, she isn't my girlfriend
No no, I'm not who you think I am
She she, she isn't my girlfriend
No no, I'm not who you think I am
She she, she isn't my girlfriend
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A House for Four
A house for four
What is it? a house for four
A dingy looking thing
Are there windows? none
What is it? a house for four
Such a palace
Are there greetings? none
What is it? a house for four
Why the space is so small
Is there privacy? none
What is it? a house for four
A dozen creeps could be creeping there
Is there any trust? none
Don't judge me for mine
Poor fool i wont
Even give you the time
Are you judging me?
Your quite the choir
With a cracking voice
And
A tall house that falls
To scrutiny
A house for four and
A house for four
A people of choir and
A people of poor
Do you not recognize
The stains are yours?
A house is not a house
Unless there is more
More and more
Sometimes less is more
poem by Deci Hernandez
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House of Flesh
Crooked,
decrepit windows
see the world in shades of grime.
This lonely house sreaks
and groans in the rain.
Tattered
mother-eaten drapes
cover the hurt of abandonment.
People pass by
and talk cheerfully
of their own inhabited homes,
graced by the presence of a loving owner.
They are filled,
overflowing,
with friendly masses.
They are filled with people
who look in pity and distain
at this crumbling house on the corner.
These bodies pass by
with not a thought to this sad house,
all alone
begging for someone to pass it's threshhold,
to care.
Poor abandoned house on the corner,
quietly falling to pieces as the seasons pass.
No one wants you.
poem by Meggan McGuire
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House or a Home?
Memories can be etched in stone,
inside houses that are not like homes.
Homes are where people care,
not pull out each other’s hair.
House’s store energy of what was there,
Happy thoughts, or your worst nightmare.
Some houses are where people cheat,
Home is where people meet and greet.
Luckily the soul of the house can be changed,
To a better energy and be renewed again.
Only people enter my home that are sincere,
if you are not you will not get near.
(September 4, 2011)
poem by Christina Sunrise
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L1,7.22
most people suck one another,
civilization sucks, visions suck,
missions are sucked, there is
no shortage of what is sucked,
oh yes, society is a dismal failure.
you too, suck, ...don't be silly,
the universe is a big failure,
God is disappointed, People suck
Christ, Christians keep on killing
one another, Even those who
say there is only One God,
Creator of heaven and Earth also
suck, they destroy each other's
beliefs, they tell that they are
the only ones who go to heaven
the few chosen one, that they
can never be wrong, that they
are the only Right Race, ..they too
suck, God loves everyone, can He
afford to lose any one?
This world sucks because of
intolerance, because of self-righteousness,
God bless us all. God guide us.
Suck us from an impending Hell.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The House with Nobody in It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.
I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.
Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.
But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
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Tornado In January!
major tornado damage here
in the western North Carolina
foothills last night!
up to fifty homes, and/or mobile
homes, damaged, or destroyed.
forty degree temps, and a tornado,
in January!
people left homeless, injured, and
lost everything they had... they
need our prayers, and our help!
we take so much for granted... we
complain about how hard things are...
and then you watch your neighbors
lose it all in an instant...
we need to be family, right here
and now... and to learn to be
thankful for the small things!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Abandoned
I came upon an abandoned house
and found the scene so sad.
For what had been was now no more.
It made me feel so bad.
Deserted for years by all it held
and left on its own to stand,
it lost its beauty and usefulness
on its desolate land.
How many lives had it sheltered
and comforted in its day?
Oh if the house could utter,
oh if it could only say.
It would speak of happy sounds it heard
and grumblings that were spoken.
It would speak of paint and linens
and spirits that were broken.
Hard times had come upon the house
and the people there.
One by one they all had gone,
gone away somewhere.
And left was the house to fend for itself
as it looked upon the yard.
And as I walked away from it
I found it rather hard
to forget it.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A House Is Not A Home
A house is not a home
and now neither is ours
the day you left there world
left our faces with a throne
and though you were ready
we still wish it didn't have to be
cause a house is not a home
when its filled with sadness and misery
Bickering and arguments
left this family in pieces
as rules and laws are bent
and friends go away like diseases
a house is not a home
if a smile no longer comes
and time no longer stops
a house is not a home
if a heart beat feels like a stomp
poem by Robert Roberts
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House On Henderson
I can remeber all the times
When we would go blind
We would be dead on our feet
But it was fine we had good times
In the House on Henderson Street
We would play our music
And sing our songs
And drink in the heat
When the air wasnt on
In the cold, rain or shine, through hail and sleet
We always had goodtimes
In the house on henderson street
We would have kegs in the kitchen
And I was itching
For that sweet feeling in my mind
Throw a tire on the roof, scream in the streets
Filled up with alcohol, lets get something to eat.
Though my memories are hazy
And the nights were crazy
I wont forget the people we'd meet
But it was fine we had goodtimes
At the house on henderson street.
It was fine when we lost our minds
At the house on henderson street.
poem by Blaine McCanless
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In this house of pain
In this house of pain
We’re nothing but slaves
Giving into such desires
Will it bring us any pleasure?
Weeping for a lover lost
She’ll cast her own spell
Deprived by all
Depleting the life of everyone that has betrayed her
Hidden in the shadows is where she will feel alive
In this house
Is nothing but sinners?
In this house
Is nothing but broken promises?
In this house
Is where you left me for dead?
Walking through the fogged trees
Blind to all
The songs of old
Are here for the comfort of all.
Beneath the garden of secrets
Hides a lonely heart
Calling to her lover
From which she had to part.
I am alone again.
Alone with my thoughts
That I am left to ponder upon
I am alone again.
This sadness is overwhelming
And all I can do is give in
Does my heart still beat the same?
Or does it die along with you
These thoughts seem to keep me sane
Yet I’m still waiting for more
These memories seem to play a game
And in the end
I’m here to give in
In this house
Is nothing but heartache?
In this house
Is nothing but tears?
In this house
Is where you left me broken?
The feelings seem to fade
The laughter was lost long ago
But I would give everything up
Just to have it all back
In this house
Was when I first fell in love with you?
In this house is were I gave my heart to you
In this house was where i was lost to you.
This will be our doing
This will be our destruction
Swept up in such blissful dreams
Scarcely unaware
This is the house
Were we will rot forever?
poem by Teigan Klippel
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Man Your Garbage
Your the left over that no one eats
You just rot in the fridge
Until someone throws it away
Your the dirty dishes that no one
Want to clean up
Cause the left overs are still in the pan
Your the trash that stinks up the house
Your the junk that I need to throw away
But don't have the heart to
Your everything that I don't need
And yet your still here
Stinking up the place and rotting away
It's time to start cleaning up the place
And I'm gonna start by
Throwing all your stuff out the window
So don't be surprised if all your stuff
Is in a with all of left overs
And dirty dishes
And the trash
And the junk
All the stuff that's garbage
Including all your stuff that crowds up my place
Sexual Starvation And Imagination In The Middle Of A Calamity...
as she saw it
on that clear day she
remembered
how the tornado came
and sucked a house and a cow
smoothly to its
throat,
the house was gone
it did not spit the whole cow
and the tornado left
the grasses on the yard
were thick
and lush
she was so amazed with what she
saw
there was no fear in her eyes
it was pure excitement
she felt ecstasy
her groins excreted sweat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Astonishing Forest
Where the house filled with living
The house continuously giving
Where the house filled with nature
The house filled with adventure
Anything can survive
With the nature it provides
Where the house filled with grass
The house filled with hedges, bushes and plants
Canopy trees be it rain or shine
Will be there for you at any time
Where the green house filled with fresh air
Will shelter you in the heavy rain
O the house of beauty
O the house of sound
So much variety is yet to be found
poem by Sehar Zaman
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Don’t hurt them
Don’t hurt them
A song sings by a mosquito bound me to awake in the mid night.
I found that some thieves were stealing my articles from my house.
One of them have stolen my television and other one stolen another article
And one of them taken the book
In which my poem
“Bound to work” was written.
He reads my poem
And said to his fellows that
This house is belongs to a poet
Who thinks always for poor and toiling people of our society?
Such people are few in this world.
So we must not hurt such people like him.
So please put all articles back in his house properly.
We will see another house for our bread.
I appreciate their feelings for poets like me.
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Burning Down The Hosue
Watch out you might get what you're after
Cool babies strange but not a stranger
I'm an ordinary guy
Burning down the house
Hold tight wait till the party's over
Hold tight We're in for nasty weather
There has got to be a way
Burning down the house
Here's your ticket pack your bag: time for jumpin' overboard
The transportation is here
Close enough but not too far, maybe you know where you are
Fightin' fire with fire
All wet hey you might need a raincoat
Shape down Dreams walking in broad daylight
Three hun-dred six-ty five de-grees
Burning down the house
It was once upon a place sometimes I listen to myself
Gonna come in first place
People on their way to work baby what did you except
Gonna burst into flame
My house S'out of the ordinary
That's right Don't want to hurt nobody
Some things sure can sweep me off my feet
Burning down the house
No visible means of support and you have not seen nothing yet
Everything's stuck together
I don't know what you expect staring into your TV set
Fighting fire with fire
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghost In A Haunted House
All was quiet, nary a sound.
Yet there seemed to be something around.
The halls were vacant, the rooms quite bare
but the presence of something was always there.
It moved at night and left its scent
perfuming the air wherever it went.
The house is bought. People move in.
All is silent 'til noises begin.
Creaks and steps that sound in the air
awaken the people that stop and stare.
Nothing is seen but the air turns cold.
The ghost in this house is suddenly bold.
Presents itself in shadowy form.
All around, a space that's not warm
appears as a shadow draped in white
gripping the hearts of the people in fright.
'Who's there?
Who's there? ' comes the cry.
The answer is muffled but the wail is high.
The house is haunted. We cannot stay.
The ghost that's here wants us away.
A child says, 'That's not the case.
I've seen the ghost. I've seen its face.
It smiled at me and let me know
that it's only a ghost with nowhere to go.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Poor House
You walk in, half past nine
Lookin like a queen
Serving me with papers
Calling me obscene
Woman Ive tried so hard
Just to do my best
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
And youll take all the rest
Up all day, down all night
Working on the job
Everything I do is wrong
I always end up [..]
Woman I try so hard
Done all I can do.
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
Keep all the best for you.
Ooh, in the poor house
Ooh, in the poor house
If a drove a pulpwood truck
Would you love me more?
Will you bring me diamonds
And hang around my door
Woman, Ive done my best
Theyre aint much left for me
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
And throw away the key (in the poor house)
Ooh, in the poor house
You walked in, half past nine
Lookin like a queen
Serving me with papers
Calling me obscene
Woman Ive tried so hard
Just to do my best
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
And youll take all the rest
In the poor house
Ooh, in the poor house
In the poor house
Ooh, in the poor house
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homeless in a House
I ask you simply, what is home?
A place where kindred people come?
A space where residents reside?
What makes a home a home inside?
I ask you now, is home a house?
Can people buy homes with their spouse?
In houses can a family be
together for eternity?
I say to you, it is not so!
A home is where a man will go
to seek his flames of strife to douse.
A home he seeks, and not a house.
Inside a home a man has love:
From here below, and from above.
At home, he'll be with family
for time and all eternity.
poem by Chris Schleier
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Burning Down The House (album Version) (feat. The Cardigans)
Watch out you might get what youre after
cool babies strange but not a stranger
i'm an ordinary guy
burning down the house
hold tight wait till the party's over
hold tight we're in for nasty weather
there has got to be a way
burning down the house
here's your ticket pack your back: time for jumpin' overboard
the transportations here
close enough but not too far, maybe you know where you are
fightin' fire with fire
all wet hey you might need a raincoat
shakedown dreams walking in broad daylight
three hun-dred six-ty five de-grees
burning down the house
it was once upon a place sometimes i listen to myself
gonne come in first place
people on their way to work baby what did you expect
gonna burst into flame
my house s'out of the ordinary
that's might don't want to hurt nobody
something sure can sweep me off my feet
burning down the house
no visible means of support and you have not seen nothing yet
everythings stuck together
i don't know what you expect starring into the tv set
fighting fire with fire
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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